


Made to be Ruled

by JolieFolie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, Jötunn Loki, Light BDSM, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Lies, Manipulative Loki, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Prince Loki, Sexual Assault, Shapeshifter Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolieFolie/pseuds/JolieFolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki steals a kitchen servant away from her post in the middle of the night and takes her back to his chambers. But she refuses to be his captive.<br/>(Cross-listed on FF.net as Made to be Ruled -- my OC Trista's storyline)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You Bite the Hand that Feeds

"That's fine. I'll take care of everything. Feel better," Trista dictated to the messenger, her hands flying, trying to do too much at once. She heard the messenger walk out of the kitchen, presumably on his way back to the servants' quarters.

Trista overturned her mixing bowl onto the counter, dumping out the dough. "Shit," she said, realizing she'd forgotten to sprinkle flour on the counter beforehand. She spun around and made a beeline for the pantry, still carrying the mixing bowl.

She heard the kitchen door open again with a squeak. "What, is he calling in sick for tomorrow too?" she said, still looking inside the pantry. She hauled the flour bag off the shelf and balanced it on her hip, like a heavy infant she didn't want, and dashed back to the counter.

"It's two minutes past midnight."

Trista plunked the flour bag and mixing bowl onto the counter, twisting her head in the direction of the raspy voice. "Oh my God," she said, her jaw dropping as she recognized the green eyes, the black hair, the infamous emerald and gold clothing. He loomed in the doorway, almost as tall as the door itself. "My prince, I beg your forgiveness."

Loki kept his eyes fixed on Trista and lowered his chin. He began to approach her, the sound of his footsteps on the kitchen tile like a slow metronome.

His silence made Trista's whole body tense. "I apologize for my impudence, Your Grace. I thought it was someone – I don't know how I could forget about…"

He was standing so close to her now, Trista could feel his breath on her face.

Trista bowed her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Normally she wouldn't be so emotional, but she was exhausted. She'd worked her usual shift; only to find out she'd have to work till dawn now to fill in for the night cook.

Loki could only see the top of her head. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun. He heard a faint tap and looked down at his shoe; a single drop of moisture had landed on the polished black leather. With a slender, white hand, Loki grasped Trista's chin and lifted her head up. "Look at me."

Feeling like she was about to faint, Trista willed herself to open her eyes. It took all her energy to keep her body from shivering; only her lower lip quivered.

Loki brought his thumb up to her lip and the quivering ceased with his gentle touch.

Trista's face flushed. She'd served the royal family for years but had never even made eye contact with Prince Loki. However, she knew more about his antics than she dared to admit. On her way to work in the morning, sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of a woman in a party dress leaving his bedchambers. Or, on her way back to the servants' quarters after her shift, she'd hear screams, moans, and loud thuds coming from inside his room.

The part she was especially embarrassed to admit, however, was that Loki's bedroom was not on her normal route. For months, she'd secretly been making a detour in her travels to and from the kitchen, if only to fuel her imagination for when she was lonely at night. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a lover; she worked in the kitchen six days a week, leaving little energy left over to develop a romance. If she was honest with herself, she felt jealous of Loki's women.

 _I wish I could surrender_ , Trista thought, _to a man who knows how to take control._

"Do not waste your tears. I have no sympathy for disobedient servants." Loki's hand dropped from her chin and he turned his back to her.

Trista wiped her face on the long sleeve of her uniform. She held her arm out to examine the mess she'd made of her sleeve. She definitely needed a tissue. She turned around to grab one out of a drawer.

Suddenly, Loki's arms were around her waist. He pressed his groin against her ass. "I could have you killed."

Trista looked down. She realized her hands had flown to her stomach to squeeze Loki's arms. She might have been scared, but it had been so long since a man had held her. For Trista, oxytocin was more powerful than adrenaline.

Loki could tell she was blushing; her ears were bright red. He leaned down and licked the inside of her right ear, the tip of his tongue cool against her skin. "You shall die a thousand little deaths by my hands." He bit her earlobe. "And by my lips."

Loki spun Trista around and grabbed her ass, picking her up and sitting her on the counter. With his teeth, he ripped open the front of her buttoned shirt. He turned his head to the side to spit out a button and then launched his face into her chest.

Trista's hands were on Loki's back. The back of her head was pushed up against the cupboard doors and her hair was coming loose from its bun.

Loki dug his fingernails into the insides of Trista's thighs. Her pants were threadbare after years of service. Loki found a little hole that had already begun to form along the seam, just under Trista's crotch, and slid his finger into it, working his finger around and around, enlarging the hole.

Trista looked down. Loki's entire fist could now fit through the hole.

Loki sank his teeth into the top of Trista's breast, eliciting a shriek. He shoved his other hand inside the hole in Trista's pants and pulled his hands in opposite directions, pieces of fabric coming away in his grasp. Loki's elbow knocked the metal mixing bowl off the counter and it clanged onto the floor.

"My uniform…"

"Fuck the uniform. You won't need it, where you're going."

"Where are we going?"

Loki brought his gaze level with Trista's, his nose touching hers, his eyes unblinking. Trista blinked twice as fast, as if to compensate. "'We'? How presumptuous of you." Loki removed her shirt from her shoulders and picked up the remnants of her pants from the floor. He left Trista sitting on the counter in her black lace bra and panties and walked over to the trash can by the door. The hand that clasped the bundle of fabric hovered over the can. He ensured Trista's eyes were locked on his and, without breaking eye contact, he dropped the clothing into the trash.

Trista crossed her arms, conscious of her body, especially since Loki was fully dressed.

"I am a Prince of Asgard. There is no 'we'. There is me, and everybody else. And you are nobody. An insubordinate, dressed like a slut under her servant's uniform, who attempted to seduce me when I came looking for my midnight meal."

Trista's mouth fell open.

Loki laughed, his smile incongruent with the evil in his eyes. "No one would believe your side of the story. I said I could have you killed." He swung the door open and walked out. "Have a nice shift, servant girl. I'll see you at the gallows tomorrow morning."

Trista bolted after Loki. The door was swinging shut and she slammed her body against it, pushing it open again. She would have a bruise later from the impact. "Wait." She ran to keep up with his long strides as he walked down the hallway. Her hair had completely fallen loose from its bun. Trista grabbed Loki's hand and fell to her knees, strands of hair in her eyes. Her bra strap slipped off one shoulder. "I'll do anything, please."

Loki raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at her, but did not pull his hand away. "Your history of disobedience suggests otherwise."

Trista shook her head. "I'll prove it to you, Your Grace."

Loki gripped Trista's hands and yanked her to her feet. Surprised by the force of his pull, Trista fell forward onto his chest. Loki smirked. "My appetite requires a woman with more stamina."

Trista's mouth hardened. If there was anything her twelve-hour shifts in the kitchen had taught her, it was that she had a shitload of stamina. She raised her chin in the air, keeping her gaze steady.

She reached between her breasts, untying the laces of her bra. Once it was loose, she held it against her chest, covering herself as she untied the strings on either side of her panties. Then she shed both garments at once, tucking the small bits of lace into Loki's front pants pocket. "And I require a man who can make a woman surrender."

"Will you settle for a god?" Loki hoisted Trista into his arms.

* * *

Tonight was a night of firsts for Trista. The first time she'd been carried naked down a corridor, the first time she'd entered a Prince's bedchambers, and the first time she'd worn a cape.

Trista was standing in Loki's walk-in closet, examining her reflection in the long mirror erect in the corner. The closet was amply furnished with shelves and racks; silk and leather and cotton folded neatly and arranged according to colour. "For a God of Chaos, you have a very organized closet."

Loki let his eyes wander down Trista's form; she had found his cape hanging on the back of the closet door and was now wearing it. It fit him perfectly, of course, but on this young woman it was so long it trailed behind her on the floor. "Where would the fun be in disassembling something if it were not structured in the first place?" He came closer and stood behind her. Trista raised her arms, untucking her long hair from underneath the cape. While her hands were in the air, Loki grasped them and quickly tied them together using the flimsy bra that had been in his pocket. Her hands were behind her neck and her elbows pointed up. Loki had his feet on either side of Trista's feet; his body seemed to swallow hers. "I know you've taken to walking past my bedchambers. And I know why." He ran his hands down her back.

Trista shivered at the sensation of his touch through the cape.

His voice came from his soft lips buried in her hair. "I know what you need."

Trista turned to face him and placed her hands behind his neck. "Then give it to me."

Loki leaned down, almost close enough to brush his lips against hers. Trista closed her eyes. Then her head almost snapped back as Loki picked her up, wrapping her thighs around his waist. He slammed her against a rack of clothing, hangers and garments falling down around them.

Trista reached up and hung onto the horizontal rod, keeping her ankles crossed behind Loki's back. He untied the leather strings of his pants, freeing himself. Trista felt the bare skin of his taut ass against her heels. "You seek to prove your obedience to me, servant girl? Then scream your Master's name."

He slid the tip of his organ around her wet entrance. She breathed in his exhalations, wanting him inside her desperately. "Loki."

"You want to live?" He rammed her against the wall again. "Louder."

Trista screamed as sharp fingernails dug into her ass. "Loki, fuck…"

Trista's weight was too much for the clothing rod; it snapped in two. She fell to the floor and Loki followed, falling on top of her. The shelves on either side of the rod collapsed inward. Clothing showered down; something black and silken covered Trista's face.

Loki kissed her through the soft material. Trista moaned, calling his name again, her voice muffled. Then she felt a hand at her neck.

"Beg for your Master." Loki slowly applied pressure to her throat, cutting off her air. His other hand he allowed to roam down between her thighs. He applied equal pressure to her center.

Trista's head sank back into the soft pile of clothes and she began to feel herself drift away.

Until Loki flipped her so she was kneeling on all fours. He ripped the bra away from her wrists and re-tied it around her neck. The flimsy lace permitted her to breathe.

Loki pulled on the bra, reining in his servant girl. He slid his length up and down the outside of her center, soaking himself with her anticipation.

Trista couldn't wait a moment longer. She reached behind her and grabbed him at his base; her fingers could not encompass his width. She sat down on his lap and felt him slip inside easily. She was so ready for him.

Loki grabbed her hair right at her scalp and pulled. "You claim you need a man who can make you surrender. Yet you refuse to submit to me." He lifted her ass up and removed himself. Hands still on her waist, he stood up, taking her with him, and threw her on the upholstered bench in the middle of the room. The bench was just long enough to support Trista's back; she had her feet on the floor to keep herself from slipping down.

He stepped out of the leather pants that had pooled at his ankles and picked them up. Using the pants, he tied Trista's wrists to the arm of the bench above her head.

Trista's legs were splayed apart. Loki tied her ankles to the legs of the bench using two belts. "I am your Master," he said, standing between her legs. "And I'll fuck you when I decide you're ready."

Loki lifted the edge of the bench, angling Trista's center straight at his organ. His arms were slender but powerful.

His hair was an absolute mess and his beautiful eyes glowed. Trista gazed upon him and smiled.

Loki smirked back at her. He began to slide the tip of his organ inside. Slowly, he filled her. He was enormous, but he had tortured her until she was more than ready to receive him.

Trista's eyes drifted shut, her body relaxing, receiving his warmth. From her parted lips came a low moan.

"You can do better than that," Loki said, rocking back and forth. He raised and lowered the bench in time with his rhythm. His organ stroked her at every angle. "I want all of Asgard to hear who has finally taken control of you."

He placed a hand on her center. His fingers, wet with her desire, coaxed her expertly.

There was nothing Trista could do to stop herself from succumbing. Her toes curled; her flushed lips stretched into a grin. She revelled in her helplessness. "Master, you have complete control of me."

Loki frowned. "Still able to form a sentence. Not good enough." He let go of the bench, the two legs thudding against the floor. Suddenly, his face was right in front of hers. "I want you screaming for mercy like a fucking animal."

The belts that restricted Trista's ankles had loosened slightly; Loki grabbed her waist, pressing himself into her. Trista screamed, feeling him even more deeply than before. His teeth sank into her throat, the pain swirling in her head along with ecstasy. The pressure on her airway rendered her screams ragged.

Loki tasted blood. He had created a tiny red dot on her neck. He left it alone, admiring the lazy trail of crimson flowing down.

He looked at her face beneath him. Her hair was everywhere; some of it stuck to her shoulders, some of it reached the floor. She was no longer a kitchen servant, with her tight little body veiled by a uniform and her hair restrained.

No. She had yielded to his dominance, tasted the freedom afforded only by bondage. She was now his possession.

"Say my name."

The feral woman beneath him complied, screaming so loud he almost jumped. Pride surged through his body, pushing him to the brink. Any moment, he would topple over the edge. "Say it again, and again."

Trista nearly extinguished her voice with the ferocity of her screams. She opened her eyes and saw his beautiful, flushed face above her, his eyebrows knit together, his lips apart. His hair formed a curtain around her face. They were the only people in the world. She reached her face up and kissed him.

Loki moaned into her mouth. He felt her core spasm around him as she finally, completely, succumbed. It was enough to push him off the edge. He erupted, pouring his heart into Trista.

* * *

Sunshine streamed in through the tall windows of Loki's bedroom. The light, plus two voices, coaxed her into consciousness.

Trista wiggled her arms and legs. She was no longer confined to the bench but, instead, enveloped in the sheets of Loki's bed.

Trista turned her head in the direction of Loki's voice. He was standing at the door, speaking to –

 _Oh my God, it's my supervisor._ Trista's hand flew to her hair and tried to smooth down the tangled mess.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, you cannot possibly expect me to take you seriously. This servant abandoned her position. You know the rules." Her supervisor lowered his voice. "Such disobedience is punishable by death."

"My servant abandoned her position at my request. Don't you know the rules? You work for me. It is your disobedience that should be punished." The corners of Loki's mouth curled up, but his tone was foreboding. "With all due respect."

The supervisor gulped, the veins in his neck protruding. "Of course, Your Majesty." He apologized profusely, bowing his head.

Loki dismissed him and slammed the door shut. He turned towards his bed. "The bad news is, you still work twelve-hour shifts, six days a week. The good news is…" In a flash, he disappeared and reappeared over top of her on the bed. He grasped her hands and pinned them above her head. His lips spread into a smile, revealing white teeth. "… Now you work in my chambers only. You are my personal sex slave, Trista."


	2. Sympathy for the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains violence.

A tiny squeak came from the corner of Loki's bedchambers. Trista turned her head in the direction of the helpless sound. Loki was admiring his reflection in the mirror; he shifted his gaze slightly to check out the tiny mouse sitting along the baseboard.

Trista quickly drew in a breath, but her reaction was much different than Loki expected. She clasped her palms together and pressed them to her bare breasts, a smile warming her face. Loki raised a dark eyebrow. She slowly walked towards the mouse. "Hey, little guy." The notes of her voice were like powdered sugar.

Half of Loki's face could not believe what he was seeing; the other half was slightly revolted at the sight of vermin.

"Do we have anything for him?" Trista whispered.

Loki scoffed. "A hot towel?"

"No, some cheese or bread or something."

Loki held out his hand, magicking his golden scepter into it. He banged the bottom of the scepter against the floor, the sudden noise prompting the mouse to scurry back into its hole in the wall.

Trista whipped around to face him with a scowl, her lips parted in protest.

Loki shrugged, smirking. He never got sick of the sight of livid women. Especially when they were bare-ass naked in his bedchambers. "I've got business to attend to. And you," he said, sauntering over towards her. He reached for a lock of her messy dark brown hair, smoothing it between his fingers. "Shall await my return."

"What if I -?" Trista started to say, but Loki vanished before she could finish.

Trista looked down at herself. Strangely, she felt more naked in his absence. _Time to raid the prince's closet._

Loki had repaired the closet with magic since their tryst; the clothes were once again sorted nicely on shelves and racks, save for his cape which he was wearing today. She started rifling through his drawers and shelves, looking for something fit for her figure.

A notorious womanizer and nothing for his victims' walks of shame. Trista let her hands wander to a men's silk button-up shirt. She donned the shirt; she was so much shorter than its rightful owner that it hung almost to her knees. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows and belted it at the waist with a skinny scarf. She checked herself out in the mirror.

Close enough.

Trista strolled towards the exit. Loki had told her to wait, but he hadn't told her where to wait.

* * *

No one knew the kitchen storage room better than she did. Well, there was one person…

Trista's hand wandered to the bread basket. She selected a stale roll, figuring no one would miss it.

"Trista?"

She jumped and turned around, the roll flying out of her hands and hitting her former coworker in the face.

"Sorry, Sam!" she said, wincing as she watched him flinch. The roll dropped to the floor.

Sam bent down to pick up the roll, handing it back to her. "You're not stealing, are you?"

Trista tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's for a good cause?"

Sam smiled. Trista had never seen him look at her like that before. Or maybe she hadn't really been looking.

"We've really missed you. Kitchen hasn't been the same since."

Trista tilted her head and smiled. She felt a pang of guilt and placed the roll back in the basket. "I've missed you guys too."

"Really? Because, actually…" He looked down. "Nevermind."

Trista raised her eyebrows encouragingly.

Sam peered at her. "Now that you don't work here anymore, I guess I should just tell you." He took a tentative step towards her. "I've missed you. A lot."

Trista's mouth relaxed, almost into a frown.

Sam's face turned pink. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Trista waved her hand. "When's your break? Let's sit down somewhere."

Sam turned his back towards her, heading for the door. Trista darted her hand back into the bread basket and pocketed the roll.

His hand flew to the doorknob a little too eagerly; he held the door open for Trista. "After you."

Trista couldn't help but smile at him. He met her gaze. They held each other's eyes like that until Sam stepped through the doorway after her, shutting it behind him.

At the exact time the door shut, a glimmer of gold and emerald appeared before them.

Loki grinned at the two pairs of wide eyes staring up at him. "You've disobeyed me yet again, servant girl." He grabbed Trista by her upper arm and yanked her towards him. He plucked a large wooden spoon off the counter and wielded it behind her back. The spoon came down hard on Trista's ass through the silk shirt. He shoved her against the counter; she gripped the edge as he pulled up the bottom hem of her makeshift shirtdress. He spanked her again, hard enough to make her yelp.

Sam's pupils widened at the sight of Trista's bare flesh. Then he squeezed his eyes shut. He gulped, willing himself to stay silent. He heard Loki spank Trista harder, faster now. Trista was squealing. Sam spoke up. "Stop. Your Majesty, stop."

Loki cast a glance over at the shorter man. "Because you can't stand to see her in pain?" He spanked her again. His voice flowed as hot and slow as lava. "Or because you can?"

Sam opened his eyes now, fixing his gaze determinedly on Loki instead of Trista's reddened backside. "I think she deserves better."

The smirk dropped from Loki's face.

Trista twisted her neck to look at Sam. She'd always known him as a quiet young man, respectful of authority. This was uncharacteristic of him.

Sam's voice wavered. "If I may speak candidly, Your Grace. I despise the way you treat women. As if they're…"

Loki's mouth curled upwards. "Sluts?"

Sam's mouth hardened at the word.

Loki cocked his head, sizing up Sam for a moment. He realized Trista was doing the same, so he gave her ass another smack to snap her out of it. Then he made eye contact with Sam. "You say she deserves better, but what is that exactly? Your feeble admiration? If she needed your love, she would have gone to bed with you years ago. My servant girl does not need love from a mewling quim. She needs discipline from a god." His teeth were bared now. "As do you."

Sam's nostrils flared. "This is tyranny."

Trista snuck another look at Sam. She couldn't believe his balls. She should have let Sam watch her get spanked years ago.

Loki dropped the spoon to the floor. In an instant, his scepter was in his right hand. "You know nothing of tyranny, fool." He jabbed the rounded edge of the scepter into Sam's throat, pinning him against the wall and cutting off his air supply. Sam's eyes bulged and he sputtered. His hands flew to the scepter, trying to push it away from him.

"Hey!" Trista's hands flew to Loki's forearms. Using all her weight, she tried to get him to lower the scepter. Loki swung the scepter at her, striking her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. She fell to the floor, gasping, clutching her midsection.

"Stay." A double of Loki appeared behind her. It pushed her to the ground and secured her arms behind her.

In the moment Loki had taken to remove his scepter, Sam regained his breath. He shot over to the counter and grabbed a fillet knife off the cutting board. He charged at Loki and thrust the knife forward.

Loki darted to the side, the knife catching on his sleeve and ripping the fabric. He swung his scepter and hit Sam's wrist. The knife went flying across the room. Sam cried out.

Trista struggled against the double's iron grip. "Stop!"

Green eyes surveyed her. Loki dropped his scepter to the ground. He murmured, "I've made a terrible mistake."

Sam was panting, eyes wild. He bolted across the kitchen to the exit.

Just as he reached the door, Loki apparated in front of him, blocking his escape. "I should kill you with my bare hands instead."

He pushed Sam down on the floor, his thumbs pressing into Sam's windpipe. He pinned down Sam's legs with his own. Sam's hands flew up and wrapped themselves around Loki's neck.

Trista howled for Loki to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks. The double hissed and put its foot on her back, pushing her further down.

Sam's grip was weakening slowly. Loki pushed his entire weight down.

The double's mouth pressed against Trista's ear. "Wave good-bye." It vanished. Free from its grasp, Trista shot up and ran over to Sam.

Sam's hands were beginning to sink down from Loki's neck. Loki grinned, his teeth gleaming.

Trista drew her foot back and delivered a swift kick to Loki's face. He cried out, clutching his nose and falling back off of Sam.

Trista fell to her knees. She shook Sam's shoulders and slapped his face. Her tears fell into his mouth.

His glass eyes stared up at her, unfocused, unblinking.

Loki wiped the blood away from his nose. "Do not mourn the death of a coward."

Trista let go of Sam, his shoulders falling back limp against the floor. "You are the coward, using magic!"

"You think me weak because of my abilities?" Loki was standing in front of Trista now. He grasped her jaw with one hand. "You have yet to learn what true strength is. What it feels like to quiver beneath the foot of the beast that could crush you." He let go of her jaw, his fingernails leaving red crescents behind. With one arm under her back and one under her knees, he hoisted her up. He brought her face against his own and kissed her, dominating her lips. "You are mine." His teeth bit her lower lip.

Trista thrashed in his arms, but his grip was too powerful. Her eyelids squeezed shut, a dam through which she wept. "You fucking monster!" She felt dizzy, as if she was falling.

When the sensation stopped, she opened her eyes. Loki had transported them to his bedchambers. He threw her on his bed. Trista bounced slightly before he pounced on top of her. With one hand, he held her wrists fast against the mattress above her head. The bottom of her shirtdress had ridden up around her waist; with his other hand he teased her center, the tips of his fingers moving unpredictably. Trista bit her lip, stifling a moan.

Loki snickered. "Your body betrays you. You are wetter than the evening you first surrendered to me. And you will surrender to my power again. You always will." He grazed his chest against Trista's breasts. The caress of cool silk hardened her nipples. Loki felt her thigh muscles tense around his hand.

The hardened expression in her eyes contrasted with the softness of her body. "You have power over me because I give it to you. It is a gift. And you repay me by killing a good man? Is Your Greatness so scared that someone else could steal me away?"

Loki growled. He removed his hands from her wrists and center. He ripped open her shirtdress, tugging it off her body so forcefully it almost dislocated her shoulders. He flipped her onto her stomach. He held out his palm, conjuring a green and gold paddle. "I. Fear. Nothing." He emphasized each of his words with a smack of the paddle against her ass.

Trista moaned but kept her lips pressed together.

Loki rubbed the paddle against the back of her thighs. "You trust me with your life, yet you do not trust me with your emotions?" He turned the paddle around so that the end of its rounded handle was directed at her core. "I want to see how you really feel. Let me hear it."

Trista sat up, turned around. She pressed her hands to his shoulders, trying to push him down on the mattress. "No. I know my emotions, and I think you know yours as well. But the difference between you and me is that I'm not afraid to surrender to them."

"Enough!" Loki clamped his hand over her mouth and pushed her down, the weight of his body pressing down on her. With his other hand he wrapped her legs around his waist.

Trista reached down and untied the fly of his pants. The length of his organ sprung into her hands. She squeezed him, eliciting a groan from his throat. He closed his eyes and loosened his grip on her mouth. She lifted her head and pressed her mouth against his ear. "I may be your slave, but I have power over you too."

Loki let out a sharp breath. Before Trista could wonder if it was a laugh or a scoff, he thrust into her. He was incredibly thick; he filled her so quickly, her jaw dropped and she screamed. He pounded himself into her, grabbing fistfuls of her dark hair and pulling. Trista winced; she knew he was trying to destroy her.

But he could never rip her open the way he wanted to. She had already done that to herself, the moment she'd first seen him and wanted him so desperately.

His black hair hung over her, wild from his effort. She brought her small hand to his temple and tamed a lock, his hair softer than it looked. She reached her other hand up and held his face gently.

Loki had been staring at her breasts. His gaze lifted; he allowed Trista to capture him with her eyes. He searched them for fear or fury. He panted, slamming himself inside her, trying to elicit what he wanted to see. What he thought he wanted to see.

It wasn't working. He shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at her anymore.

Trista felt him slow down, his organ stroking her more gently now. She brushed her thumbs over his eyelids. His body felt like it was handing control over to her, but she wanted to see in his eyes if that was true.

With his slow strokes, he rubbed his pelvis against her most sensitive spot. Loki listened to her sweet voice turn into powdered sugar all over again. He pressed his face into her hair, trying to bury his emotions. This woman is killing me.

Trista wrapped her arms around his back, encompassing him. She raked her nails down his back and nearly shattered his eardrums. Her core began to spasm.

Loki pulled out, not allowing her to finish. He flipped her over on her hands and knees and entered her again. In this position, he knew he had control; he could distance himself from those soft eyes that tempted him, that promised so much to him.

He resumed his ferocity, pumping, drenching himself with her desire. He gathered her hair into a ponytail and tugged on it, drawing her head back. "You belong to me. I am your king, and I will always own you."

Trista screamed. Having been denied relief the first time, her core spasmed even harder this time.

Loki relinquished the only thing he would ever allow Trista to take from him. When he finished, he watched his wet heat drip out of her. This woman thought she could contain him, but he knew she was wrong. No one would ever be able to hold him without breaking.

He propped the pillows against the headboard and lay down. Trista rose and headed to his bathroom. He watched her hips sway as she walked, until she stopped in her tracks.

"Do you hear that?"

Loki blinked lazily, like a cat, too spent to bother with a real answer.

Then he heard it. The tiny squeaking noise again.

Trista walked over to her shirtdress and reached her hand inside the pocket, from which she produced the stale roll. Loki laughed. "You are a fool to waste your kindness on that pathetic creature."

She tiptoed towards the mouse, which was grooming its face just outside its hole in the wall. "I think all creatures are deserving of kindness." She held her breath as she got closer. The mouse began to sniff the air now. She crouched down, mere feet away.

The mouse darted back inside its hole.

Trista's face fell, which only made Loki laugh again. She ripped the roll into smaller pieces and placed them just outside the hole. She wandered back to the bed and sat down beside Loki.

The mouse's nose emerged. It sank its teeth into Trista's offering. The mouse retreated back into the darkness along with the morsel of food.

Loki sighed. "It'll keep coming back for more. You realize this."

Trista turned to him. He was scowling, his eyes downcast. She leaned forward, supporting her weight with her left hand and reaching for his face with her right hand. She cupped his jaw and gently tilted his head up. When he looked at her, she smiled. "I'm okay with that."

The lines between Loki's eyebrows disappeared, his expression softening. When Trista rested her forehead against his, he closed his eyes and let her kiss him.


	3. The Wrong Way and the Best Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains sexual assault and violence.

Trista wasn't sure how wise it was to be on the opposite side of the door. She took care to close the massive door to Loki's bedchambers at a glacial pace, so as not to wake her prince. He would have never let her leave if he was awake.

What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, she figured. And it certainly couldn't hurt her, right? She allowed that thought to skip across the surface of her mind and then ignored it, padding silently down the castle corridor. She needed her freedom but, more importantly, she needed to pay her respects.

It had only been a week since Loki had killed her former coworker, Sam. The true identity of Sam's murderer remained a mystery to the masses – Loki's silvertongue had made sure of that. His crime did not seem to bother him in the slightest. Trista, on the other hand, had been plagued with guilt over keeping her knowledge of Loki's crime a secret. She felt torn between the instinct for self-preservation, not wanting to speak up and risk being killed by Loki, and her instinct for compassion, wanting to reach out to Sam's family and atone.

The guilt was too much for her. Today, the knots in her gut forced her out of the castle, towards the peasants' land of the kingdom.

Trista knew Sam's family didn't have two coins to rub together, much less enough money for a proper funeral. She had heard, though, that a small service was scheduled to take place today. She hadn't left the castle in years; she hoped her memory of the town was strong enough to weave her through the labyrinth of the streets. At first, Trista had worried that she might look out of place in town. She was wearing Loki's clothes again – a pair of his cotton pants, rolled up at the ankle to account for her height (or lack thereof), and a soft button-up shirt, the plainest she could find. Loki refused to acquire clothing specifically for Trista, stating that since she had no reason to leave his bedchambers, she had no need for clothing. But now, as Trista looked at the people in town, she was surprised to see her loose clothing fit right in.

A crowd of people, all dressed in black, were walking together, heads bowed. She scanned their faces from afar; she'd seen Sam's parents only once, but she would know them if she saw them. She decided to follow the group of people, assuming they were mourners headed to the funeral. She made sure to keep her distance, though; she hadn't been formally invited to the service and she didn't want to draw attention to herself.

The afternoon sun was reticent; the cloud cover made it seem like it was much later in the day. Trista crossed her arms in front of her chest and rubbed her arms, half wishing she was snuggled with Loki under his warm sheets. Under his warm body…

Trista licked her lips, which had begun to dry out from the slight chill in the air. Focus. Remember why you're here. She felt another knot form in her stomach.

"You look like you could use some warmer clothes."

Trista felt a heavy coat envelop her shoulders. She turned to her side to see a man, dressed in black, who had given her his warm coat and was now offering a smile to match. She blinked. "But won't you be cold now?"

He gave his head a quick shake. Trista frowned, doubting him. His clothes were threadbare and the sole of one of his shoes was coming loose, making a slapping sound on the ground as he walked. Despite the condition of his clothes, Trista noticed the skin of his face looked clean, his reddish-blonde hair neatly combed back and tucked behind his ears. There was no mistaking the pride in the way he held his head. But the expression in his eyes clearly indicated that he was part of the funeral procession.

Trista held out her hand. "Thank you. I'm Trista."

His calloused palm scratched Trista's as he shook her hand. Without looking at her, he asked, "You live in the castle?"

Trista's eyes locked on his face, her surprise prompting her to search him for an answer. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Me and Sam had been friends since we were kids. He told me about you, talked about you like you were made of gold."

Another knot formed in Trista's stomach. She looked down at the ground, pulling the coat closer around her body.

The man continued, "The last time I saw him, he told me you left the kitchen to be Loki's bitch."

Trista stopped walking. She and the man had been ambling along; the funeral procession was well ahead of them. "He would never use that word."

"No. But I would." The man took a step and stood directly in front of her. "So, Loki's bitch, just how big is his cock?"

Trista's eyebrows knit together. Shock distorted the shape of her mouth. She shrugged off the coat, letting it fall sharply to the dirt ground. She began to turn away.

The man grabbed her shoulder and pushed her into an alleyway between two stone buildings. Trista winced as her back cracked against the stone wall. She felt something warm press into her hand. The man's breath was in her face; she could see up his flared nostrils. "Is it as big as this?"

He clamped his rough hand over her mouth. Trista bit down into his flesh, tasting metal. The man withdrew his hand and Trista screamed. She tried to rip herself out of the man's grasp. The seam of her shirt tore with the effort. She managed to wiggle part of herself away.

The man backhanded her across the face, making her dizzy. "You think we don't know who did it? Those royal bastards must think we're stupid, trying to cover it up like this, but we know. But nobody wants to stick their neck out and risk getting their head chopped off. Not you. Not even me. But I'm not sucking off the murderer, am I, Trista?" His voice was acid, spurting from his mouth and burning her skin. "How do you sleep at night with blood on your hands and come on your face?"

Tears sluiced down Trista face. "Just let me go."

"Let's see if you're as good as Sam thought you'd be." His hands were down her pants, his fingers also leaking acid. "No underclothes. I guess Loki likes easy access to his whores."

Her body was motionless, as if her spirit had deserted her. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

Trista heard something hard smack against the back of the man's head. He cried out and staggered into her.

She screamed. She opened her eyes and realized blood was seeping through his light hair. And then her heart stopped. Standing behind the man, was her prince.

Loki dragged the man to his feet by his collar, lifting him off the ground. "I will kill you in the most agonizing way possible, then bring you back from Hel and kill you all over again until you learn: never lay your hands on what is mine."

The man's head was reeling. His voice came out in gasps. "Gonna kill me, just like you killed Sam, you royal prick?"

"No." Loki smirked. The hand that held the man up in the air began to turn blue. Trista's eyes widened as she watched the color spread up his arm and over his entire body. His eyes glowed red. Loki slammed the man against the stone wall. "This will be different."

Trista stared at his eyes. She had heard of the Jotun, but had never seen one in person. She watched Loki use his free hand to conjure needle-sharp icicles and pierce the man's wrists, crucifying him against the wall.

The man's screams pierced the air as sharply as the icicles pierced his flesh. His face shone with tears and sweat. Trista's heart was racing but she remained silent, watching the blood and pride drain from the man's face.

Loki kicked the man in the knees, smashing his kneecaps and eliciting more wails from his victim. The man was slouching over now, hanging by his wrists. Loki growled. "I am a god, you filthy peasant. In the end, you will always kneel. So simple. But you had to learn it the hard way."

The man whimpered, too weak now to vocalize his true agony.

Loki snickered. His red eyes rotated and fixed on Trista. "You wonder how your Master can kill with ease? I invite you to find out for yourself." He took a step back and made a small gesture, prompting Trista to approach.

Her hands were shaking. She stared at the man's broken knees and felt like she was going to vomit. Then she turned to Loki, her eyes like two lost sheep, begging for direction.

Loki felt his shoulders curl inwards involuntarily. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to put his hands all over her. Later. What his red eyes did not confess was that the man was not his true target today. No, today he was going to conquer Trista, his sweet girl who left breadcrumbs for mice. He would teach her what it felt like to kill, to wield the ultimate power. _So she will understand me._

He shook his head, pushing the thought out of his mind. _No. So her goodness will be corrupted forever._

Loki bared his teeth in a slow smile, the whiteness contrasting with his blue skin, his red eyes. Trista was so struck by his foreign appearance that it seemed to put a spell on her. She tentatively reached a hand forward, down into the pants pocket of the man pinned against the wall.

Loki laughed. "There is nothing of virtue down there."

Her fingers brushed against what felt like a small slip of paper. She pulled it out, curious. It was a picture of a little girl, the paper softened with sebum, the corners eroded. Her head bowed, she looked up at the man. "She looks like you." She flipped the picture over and read aloud the writing on the back. "Abigail, 4 years."

Loki's lower eyelids rose as he squinted slightly. The picture did not interest him in the slightest. What intrigued him was that the picture interested Trista.

"How would you feel if someone did to her what you did to me?" Trista asked the man. His chin was slumped against his chest, which was wet with sweat and flecks of blood. Trista rotated the picture so it was upside down and pressed it against his chest. The moisture held the thin paper in place. From his point of view, he could see the image of his daughter looking up at him. She let her gaze fall to the blood coagulating on the dirt beneath him. Then she turned and walked out of the alleyway.

Loki glanced at the man, conjuring an icicle and impaling the man's jugular. Finally, the peasant's ragged breathing came to a halt.

Loki's long legs allowed him to catch up with Trista, his Jotun form melting away. Despite her brisk pace, he only had to take one step for every two of hers. "You're coming with me."

"I got myself here, I can get myself back."

Loki frowned. He had meant for her to taste power, not independence.

Her arms were swinging at her sides in attempt to look more confident than she really felt. Loki slipped his hand into hers, the back of his hand facing forwards, forcing her hand into the more submissive of the two positions. Trista blinked; Loki had never held her hand before.

He looked down at her and stepped closer, eclipsing her shoulder with his arm. "You need my protection."

Trista squeezed his hand, noting that he had intertwined their fingers so that his thumb was on top. Now that she had calmed down a little, she felt hot tears begin to form in her eyes. "No, I'm fine."

"Trista." He had never used her name before. He turned and enveloped her in his arms. Exhausted, she opened herself to him. He picked her up, one arm supporting her back and another under her knees. As he transported them back to his bedchambers, he noticed the moisture in her eyes. Although his eyes were dry, he wondered why Trista's tears burned his own cheeks.

* * *

She had shed her layers and was now naked in his bathtub. Loki sat on the edge of the tub and handed her a large, steaming mug. The smell of cocoa instantly soothed Trista. She accepted the mug, curling her fingers around it. "Thank you. For saving me."

"If anyone's going to kill you, it'll be me."

Trista tried to hide her smile behind her mug, taking a sip.

Loki bristled at her expression. His tone was quiet but stern. "Do not make the mistake of thinking I've gone soft." He stripped off his shirt, the fabric hitting the floor and catching Trista's attention. He unbuckled his belt. His pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. His skin was bare underneath. "You'll see I'm just as hard as ever."

Trista pressed her thighs together. She wanted him, but she'd be damned if she made the first move.

Loki bent down, his face hovering in front of her own. Trista straightened her back, inviting him with her chest. He reached down and took the mug from her. He set it on the edge of the tub. Then he brought both his hands to either side of her face, cupping her jaw. Trista tipped her chin up and closed her eyes. He stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs.

Trista heard a splash as he sat down in the water in front of her. His hands flew to her ass, gripping her firmly and placing her on his lap. Then he grasped her small feet and secured them behind his back.

Trista winced. Loki's eyebrows darted up in response. She peered at him from under her lashes. "I think I got blisters from walking all the way to town." She bit her lip. "Would you be able to heal them for me, maybe?"

Loki smirked. He liked when she asked for things, because it gave him the satisfaction of denying her. "So now you are in favour of my magical abilities? You earned these blisters and you shall keep them until they heal naturally. Consider it a reminder to never stray from me again."

She straightened her back. Sitting on his lap, she was just high enough to be able to peer down at him slightly. "I don't know if I can promise you that."

"Oh, but you will." He slipped his hand around and under her ass, his fingers moving between her legs.

Trista became rigid in his arms. Her chest caved in as she slouched away from him.

Loki removed his hand from between her legs. He captured a lock of her hair between his thumb and index finger, smoothing it. His tone softened. "Where did he touch you?"

Her gaze fluttered away from him. He followed the laser-like focus of her pupils to a spot on her inner left thigh.

Loki unwrapped her legs from his waist. He submerged his head, his hair floating ethereally in the water and concealing his face. His fingernails dug into either side of her thigh, holding it in place. Then he opened his mouth against it, water rushing in between his lips. He buried his teeth in her flesh. His jaws clamped down on her, as if he was really trying to take a bite out of her.

Trista gasped. It was painful, but she needed it.

Red liquid began to float up, twining with Loki's black hair. A single tear stung Trista's eye. She was just about to ask him to stop, when he brought his head out of the water. His hair was plastered smoothly down his face. Trista lifted his hair and brushed it back with her fingers. There were tiny droplets of water on his eyelashes.

She didn't have to look at her thigh. She knew there was a vicious red circle where his teeth had claimed her. She tucked his hair behind his ears. "I hope it scars."

"It will." He kissed her, and she tasted her own blood.

She pushed her fingers though his wet hair, keeping his face close to hers. She re-wrapped her legs around his waist. She pushed her center against his pelvis, leaning back slightly. His hands were flat against her back, supporting her. He brought his lips to her breast, the tip of his tongue escaping to tease her nipple. She moaned and took hold of his hand, guiding it to her other breast. Loki pinched her nipple for only a moment before removing both his hand and his lips.

"Remember your place, servant girl. I'll decide what you get and when to give it to you." He lifted her ass up, scooting himself out from under her. He stood up, his white skin glistening with water and bath oils, his hair dripping onto his shoulders. Trista's gaze slipped down his sleek form. She watched him step out of the tub and grab an enormous black bath sheet from a shelf. She thought he was going to dry himself off, until he held the sheet open.

"Stand up."

She complied, facing him.

"Turn around."

After she did so, he brought the sheet to her back. He stood behind her and bent his head down to suck the water droplets from her shoulders. When he'd had his fill, he kissed her earlobe. He slowly wrapped her body in the soft bath sheet, the tip of his tongue tracing her ear. His long arms ensconced her, holding her tightly enough to feel her stomach move with her deepening breaths. He squeezed her body against his and lifted her out of the tub.

The bath sheet was sandwiched between them so tightly, Trista wondered if they were squeezing the moisture out of it. Once she was standing on the floor, she reached a hand out to grab another bath sheet for Loki.

"I'd rather use this one." He whipped the bath sheet off of Trista's body, surprising her. Loki smirked, then began towelling his hair, blocking his face from view with the sheet.

Knowing he couldn't see her, she felt a lightning bolt of boldness. His erection absolutely refused to quit. She watched the last few drops of water drip off his length. Suddenly, she was thirsty. And she knew exactly what she needed to drink.

Before she knew what she was doing, she knelt before him. Her mouth was on his pelvis, her tongue greedy. She put her hands on his ass and pushed him against her.

Loki flung the towel away from him. It hit the wall and slid to the floor. He buried his hands in her hair. "You truly are disobedient. Have I been too soft in punishing you, servant girl?"

"Yes." Trista licked his tip, her tongue hot. "I need it -"

His hands flew to her neck, choking her. She rose to her feet. Loki's still wet body pressed against her, the heat between them evaporating any remaining moisture. "I'll tell you what you need. You need to let me rule you." With his powerful arms, he flung her over his shoulder.

Trista squealed, her world turned upside down as he carried her into the bedroom. She felt her head rush as he threw her on the bed, expertly angling her so her head hit the pillow. He jumped on top of her and then sat between her legs. He magicked cuffs around her wrists and ankles, binding her with chains to the four posts of his bed. "Is this not simpler?" His fingers teased her center.

Trista arched her neck on the pillow, releasing a moan.

Loki felt more blood fill his organ, if that was even possible at this point. "If your voice wasn't so delicious, I'd gag you."

Their eyes connected at the same time.

His hand was still between her legs; she was dripping. He waved his fingers in the air. A swatch of silk gently tied itself around the back of her head and between her teeth. Her lips were spread open in a smile. He smirked. "All the more reason for you to scream louder." He lowered his face between her legs, his tongue already out to taste her.

She was a wild animal. Despite the best restraints he'd conjured, she managed to find enough give in the chains to press her pelvis against his face. Her body demanded him.

Her soft skin was so tempting. It would be all too easy to lose himself inside her. Although she was the one in chains, Loki held himself in even tighter constraints. His tongue circled her most sensitive area, his fingers working between her legs as well. The summation of sensations rippled through her, undoing her.

He waited until she was gushing, pulsing, completely feral. And then he pulled his mouth away.

She was whimpering, her demands muffled by the silk gag.

Like a panther, he prowled up her body until his face was over hers. "Admit it. You love it when I'm bad." He untied the gag, dragging it down her body, making her shiver. His hand hovered over one of her handcuffs. "Are you ready to submit to me now, my slave?"

Trista nodded. The cuffs and chains disappeared. She remained still.

"Very good." Loki stroked her hair. He sat back on his ankles. He pointed to the floor beside the bed. "Kneel."

Trista knelt facing the bed. Loki sat in front of her with his legs over the edge, his feet on the floor. She was looking up at him, a kitten waiting for her dish of cream.

Loki's organ pointed directly at the object of his desire. "Handle me, my pet."

She curled her fingers around him. His length required both her hands, and then some.

For a woman with such small hands, her grip was incredible. Loki's eyelids lowered. He maintained eye contact with her, waiting to see when her eyes would ask for more direction.

Trista hoped she appeared calm. She desperately wanted to see him orgasm, to feel him release himself within her and know that it was entirely her doing.

Loki fisted his hands in her hair. He meant to push her face into him, but with the slightest touch to the back of her head she dove forward, her mouth ready for him.

She would have swallowed his length entirely, if she could, just so she could keep it at the pit of her stomach and know she had a part of him inside her, always. Of course, his organ remained firmly attached to the rest of his body. Her lips pulled on him, rubbing against him, giving her mouth a flushed rose tone. With one hand, she cupped his bulges underneath.

Loki's groans became erratic. He called her name; Trista reveled in the pleasure of hearing those two syllables, simply because they were so much rarer than his usual ways of addressing her. She couldn't take her eyes off his face. She pleasured him until he became incoherent, but his face said everything, it gave him away.

Trista had anticipated the heat between her legs, but this time with Loki she felt an equal pressure within her chest. Her tongue swirled around him, needing a release just as much as he did.

Yes, she loved it when he was bad. But a part of her wondered how much could she love him if he let himself be good? She pleasured him fiercely, as if the answer to her riddle was pent up inside him.

Loki cursed loudly. His thighs tensed. "Yes," he repeated like a madman, pushed off the edge and cursing as he fell into the abyss.

His face suggested that he had left her, momentarily. Not literally – physically, he was inside her, flowing through her. The heat he had released was now at the pit of her stomach, right where she needed him, filling the void that he himself had created within her. Trista kept her lips around him, waiting until he came back.

After about a minute, his eyes opened, and Trista finally understood why people say the eyes are windows to the soul. She slowly released him from her mouth. She got up from her knees and sat beside him, tucking her face in the crook of his neck.

Loki waited till he regained his breath before speaking. "You will not leave here again. Since I cannot trust you to obey my orders, I've placed an enchantment on my bedchamber."

Trista snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes demanding.

He simply smirked in response.

She leapt up to try the door herself, not wanting to believe what he'd told her. He grabbed her hand before she could walk away and pulled her back on the bed. "And now I know you don't trust me, otherwise you wouldn't feel the need to test my words." He pushed her down against the soft silk sheets. His green eyes consumed her; she succumbed, as he knew she would. "It appears as though we both have issues to work out. You especially, servant girl."

His lips crushed into hers. Trista wove her fingers through his soft hair and melted under the weight of his body. She told herself she would argue with him in the morning.


	4. Friends with the Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains brief F/F sex.

"You've missed a section." Loki said to the curvy young woman scrubbing the floor outside his bedchambers.

The girl looked up, her eyes the color of black tulips. Ah, now he remembered who she was. "Where, sir?"

Loki opened his hand over the floor and conjured a pool of melted chocolate ice cream just beside his feet. "Here." He strolled down the hallway, his cape billowing out behind him.

* * *

Loki had slammed the door loud enough to wake Trista. She sat up in bed.

He had left her, but at least he had left her with breakfast. The table in his room was full of fruit, croissants, and tea.

Trista heard the sound of bristles scratching against the stone floor in the hallway. She walked over to the door and opened it to find a young woman on her hands and knees, a bucket of soapy water beside her and a brown puddle in front of her. Trista stared at the puddle. "That's not...?"

The girl glared up at Trista. The sweat on her forehead gleamed. Her eyes were surprisingly striking, catching Trista off guard. "Ice cream. Remind me to thank His Royal Highness."

Trista bit her lip. "Hang on." She turned, headed towards the bathroom.

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?"

Trista returned from the bathroom with one of Loki's bath sheets. She threw it on top of the puddle. "Now the joke's on him." Trista smiled and crouched down so she was eye level with the girl. "I'll take care of this. There's breakfast inside, if you're hungry."

The girl peered inside the room. "Is there enough food?"

"I already ate," Trista said quickly, averting her gaze. She scooted to the side to allow the girl to enter the room. Loki had forbidden her from leaving his chambers, but he hadn't said anything about letting other people in. Trista mopped up the ice cream and soapy water and then bundled the stained towel into a ball. Part of her wondered if Loki's mischievous nature was rubbing off on her. The other part knew that she just needed someone to talk to. Loki was many things to Trista, but he wasn't a friend. Not the kind her mother would approve of, anyway.

"Are you sure?" The girl was standing by the table, her hand hovering over a croissant.

Trista stood up and kicked the door shut, holding the balled-up towel away from her body. Trista couldn't remember the last time someone had asked for her permission. The authority suited Trista much like Loki's cape; fun to try on, but she would never own it. She nodded, walking towards the bathroom. "So what's your name?" she asked, chucking the towel into the bathtub.

The girl screamed.

Trista spun around to face her. "What?"

The girl had her index finger outstretched, pointing at something on the ground. The other hand was at her mouth. Trista followed the line of her pointer finger and saw a mouse sitting outside its hole in the wall. "Oh, that's my little guy," Trista laughed, walking over to the table and standing beside the girl.

"Disgusting." The girl cringed. As soon as the word left her mouth, the mouse scurried over towards them. "It's coming over here!" the girl squealed, grabbing onto Trista.

In an instinctual effort to comfort her, Trista put her hand on the girl's waist. The girl was taller, curvier than her. Trista suddenly felt awkward and put her hand on the girl's shoulder instead. "It's okay. He's tame… -ish."

The mouse was at their feet now. Trista bent down and carefully reached out her hand to pet the creature. Its fur was warm and she could feel its heart vibrating under its back. She smiled; this was the first time the mouse hadn't fled from her.

"You're crazy. I'm leaving." The girl flounced towards the door. Then she stopped. "Wait." She turned around and plucked a banana off the table. "Now I'm leaving."

Trista stood up, her shoulders sagging. With every step the girl took, Trista felt the loneliness burrow further down into her stomach. "It was nice to meet you." She tried to sound cheerful, but her voice came out deflated.

The girl whipped around again. "The crazy has really rubbed off on you, huh? I'd expect this from Loki, and maybe even Thor, but -"

"You've met Thor?" Usually, servants never got the chance to directly interact with members of the royal family unless they were extremely lucky. Or extremely unlucky.

The girl ripped the peel off the banana. "I've done more than meet him." She shoved the banana into her mouth, causing her left cheek to bulge out.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" the girl said, surprisingly articulate while chewing. "The princes take sex slaves. Or did you think you and Loki were just friends with benefits?"

"I wouldn't say Loki and I are friends. That's why I invited you in. I'm looking for a friend."

The girl's brow unfurrowed. She swallowed the chunk of banana and smiled. "Is that why you're cozying up to that mouse?"

Trista laughed, looking down. The mouse had scurried away. "I was making such good progress until you insulted him."

"I'm kind of a bitch." The girl winked. "By the way, I've been wondering why Loki's room hasn't been the brothel it usually is. Now I know he's got his hands full with you. You're really pretty."

Trista rolled her eyes. "Right. You are so full of shit." The swear word left her mouth before Trista knew what she was saying. She usually never swore, but there was something about this girl that lowered her inhibitions.

"Usually, yeah. You said you needed a friend, why don't you come to the tavern with me tonight at eight? Unless your Master won't let you." The girl crossed her arms and turned up one side of her mouth.

Trista remembered the enchantment Loki had placed on his room. Her face fell. "Actually…"

The smirk slowly faded from the girl's face. She started to turn towards the door.

Trista felt the acid accumulate in her stomach. She was hungry, not for breakfast, but for true intimacy. The kind you could achieve with your clothes on. She straightened her back. If Loki could enchant his chambers, he could disenchant them just as easily. "I'll be there. What did you say your name was?"

A deep voice came from the bed. "Sloane."

The girl and Trista both whipped their heads to look at the bed, upon which Loki was reclining. His hands were behind his head. He grinned at Trista. "Don't look at me like that, darling. I know you missed me."

Trista felt her heart vibrate almost as quickly as the mouse's heart had. She hated to admit it, but she had missed him - even after only fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath in, trying to appear calm in front of her new friend. "Not really. I've been -"

In a flash, Loki was standing beside her, his body pressing against her smaller one. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice low. "I know exactly what you've been up to." He looked down her shirt and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then he lifted his gaze and made eye contact with Sloane. "I would advise you to leave, unless you want to hear screams that will give you nightmares for weeks." He delivered a swift bite to Trista's neck, smirking when she shrieked in response.

"On top of the nightmares I already have?" Sloane murmured.

The tone of her voice triggered Trista's sympathy. She looked at Sloane with doe eyes.

Loki scowled at Trista's reaction. He opened his palm and spanked Trista's ass. "I thought you learned what happens when you try to make friends. Or do you need another lesson?"

Trista put a hand on Loki's chest and tried to push him away, while her other arm clung to his neck, pulling him in. Somehow her brain didn't hold the same power over her body as Loki held.

Sloane waved her hand. "I'm going. Nice to meet you, Trista."

Trista waited until the door closed behind her. She looked up at Loki, wrapping her other arm around his neck. "You let her off easy. I think you're getting soft."

"Do not test me." He filled his hands with her breasts through the silk of her shirt. "I don't let anyone off that easily. You invited a stranger into my chambers, without my permission. I should flog you until you scream."

"Not a stranger. How do you know her name?"

Loki pinched her nipples, twisting them ever so slightly. Trista moaned, burying her fingers in his hair. She almost didn't hear Loki's response. "She is a failed servant girl of Thor's."

Trista's eyes snapped open. "Failed?"

Loki gathered her hair into a ponytail and pulled her head back. With his other hand, he lightly stroked her throat, his thumb and fingers forming the gentlest of clamps. "I know that look in your eyes. If you think Sloane is another mouse to befriend, you are sorely mistaken. And you know what tragedies ensue when you make mistakes."

"It sounds like you're threatening me."

Loki tightened his grip on Trista's throat. "There is no need for me to threaten you, not when there are so many other, more pleasurable, methods of persuasion."

"Maybe there is a way that I can persuade you of something?" Trista gasped with what little air she had left.

Loki released her throat. He rotated his wrist, facing his palm outward, and trailed the tips of his fingers down her chest. "I'm listening."

"Lift the enchantment. Just for today."

Loki chuckled. Then he waved his hand and the door to his bedroom swung open. "Done."

Trista turned. "Thank you."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. "You asked me to lift the enchantment. You didn't ask me to let you go." The force of his pull caused her to stumble sideways onto his chest. Loki caught her in his arms and held her there. "I'll never let you go, no matter how much you beg." He snapped his fingers and her clothing vanished.

"The door…" Trista pressed herself against him, conscious of the possibility of someone walking past the wide open entrance.

"What about it?" Loki held her waist and pushed her down to sit on the edge of the bed. He stood between Trista and the door, shielding her. Then he brought his hands to his shoulders and unfastened his cape. He let it cascade down behind him. Next, he slipped out of his gauntlets and vest.

"Someone could see us." Trista held her breath as she watched Loki unwrap the criss-cross of leather armor from his torso.

"You mean someone could see me doing as I please in my own chambers?" He unbuttoned his tunic and stripped it off. His chest was bare now. His pelvic bones arrowed into his leather pants, directing Trista's attention. She felt faint and realized she was still holding her breath. Loki's slender fingers hovered around his belt buckle. He finally unbuckled it and slowly snaked it out from the belt loops.

Trista's chest made tiny movements as she took shallow breaths. She felt like she'd forgotten how to breathe naturally and now had to mindfully assert control over the task. She looked up at Loki's sly smile. His eyes flickered. He knows exactly what he's doing. She took a deep breath. She would have to control herself if she really wanted power to persuade him.

"You are far too tame today." Loki cracked the belt in the air, making Trista flinch. She scolded herself for the instinctual reaction. "Shall I whip you into shape?"

Trista crossed her legs. There was no way her ass was moving. "Promise me you'll let me go tonight."

He snickered. "Is this how it works now?" He grabbed her upper arm with one hand and flipped her around. He bent her over on the bed. "I am your Master. I make the rules. Don't forget that." He whipped the belt against her back, leaving behind a long red line. The endorphins flowing through Trista's body clouded the pain. The whip came down on her back a second time. "You'll walk free when I decide, and when I do, I'll ensure your body is thoroughly marked as my possession." He whipped her in a figure-eight pattern on her ass and lower back.

Trista lifted her head. ""When'? So it's up for negotiation?"

The belt came down harder than ever on her ass. He tossed the belt on the bed, above her head. He kicked off his boots and walked over to his nightstand. He grabbed a hardcover book and sat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He flipped open to the first page and stared at it. Trista stood up, waiting for him to speak. He flipped to the next page, nearly ripping it with the abrupt motion. She crawled onto the bed and approached him. "My prince." She used her best honey-sweet voice, the kind kept on the top shelf and reserved just for emergencies.

A lock of hair fell in front of Loki's face as he buried his attention in the book. Trista came closer and reached her hand out to tuck it back into place. Loki grabbed her hand, his eyes catching her eyes at the same time. "Am I not enough?" His expression was unyielding, but the vulnerability in his eyes rendered her speechless.

She felt like one of his icicles had pierced her chest. She grasped at the right thing to say. Every word seemed to dissipate like vapor. She clasped his hand between both of hers and brought it to her chest, pressing his palm flat against the left side of her breastbone. "You are more than enough."

He felt the quiet rhythm of her heart in his hand. His fingernails dug into her flesh for just a moment. Then he tugged his hand away. His hand and his gaze return to the book. He bowed his head. "You only say that because your life is at stake."

Her hands sank down into her lap. "Is that what you think, Loki?"

There was something in the way she said his name. He lifted his chin up slightly and looked at her lips. He wouldn't let himself fall into her eyes.

She continued. "I'll always be honest with you, if you are always honest with me."

He watched the promise fall from her lips. His eyes smouldered with envy. "You make it sound so easy. It isn't. Not for me."

She put her hand on the open book and pushed it down into his lap, demanding more of his attention. She leaned forward, closing the gap between their faces. "I care about you, and not because I belong to you. I'd belong to you anyways, even if I'd never met you -"

He tossed the book aside, the pages fluttering as it flew to the floor. He pounced on top of her, his tongue inside her mouth, his hands in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close, and then reached for the fly of his pants. Loki supported his weight with his left arm as he brought his other hand to his crotch, helping Trista undo the fly. He tugged his pants down and tossed them across the room.

They were skin to skin, nothing between them. Trista locked her ankles together behind his back. Her hands were on either side of his face, pulling him down when he tried to lift his head.

Loki broke away, evoking a small whimper from Trista. The ends of his hair brushed against her cheek. Trista smoothed his hair back, the tips of her fingers disappearing between the soft strands. Her white hand in his hair looked like a dove among ravens. He trailed kisses down her neck, bringing his hand to his hair where Trista's hand lay. His fingers entwined with hers. Trista expected him to push her hand back against the sheets. Instead, he brought their hands between their chests, pressing the back of her hand against his sternum. He kissed her just below her ear and softly bit her earlobe. "I've always hated sharing," he murmured.

Trista hummed, allowing his husky voice to waft into her. The warmth of his skin radiated into her, relaxing her muscles. She felt his heart beat powerfully within him, pumping the blood to his thick organ. Trista buried her head in his neck, inhaling his warm scent.

He slowly, easily, fit himself inside her. "And I refuse to share my servant girl with anyone." As he spoke, he felt Trista become even wetter, drenching his organ. She tilted her head in the direction of his voice. He smiled, brushing his lips against her ear. He kissed her neck and brought his mouth over to her other ear. "Are you so aroused by the mere sound of my voice?"

She made eye contact with him, her lids heavy. She thrust her hips upward, taking in as much of him as she could.

"I'll take that as a yes." He bit the side of her neck. He rocked back and forth, drawing a low moan from Trista's throat. He released her neck, leaving behind a wet, red imprint of his teeth. He wanted to mark her body as his in every way he could. "I'll give you what you need, Trista, as long as you listen to me."

His fingers slipped between her legs and slowly tortured her. He always led her to orgasm as if he had nothing but time. Trista felt herself begin to unravel beneath the god, feeling that maybe time had stopped just for them.

She felt a draft swoop in. She remembered the open door. She bit her lip, trying to hold back her scream. "Shut the door, please," she whispered.

"What was that, darling? Open the windows?"

Hinges creaked as all the tall windows of his room swung open. Their green curtains billowed in the breeze.

It was too late for her to protest; she was too far in. She parted her lips and her scream broke free.

"If that is what my voice does to you, just imagine the effect your voice has on me." Loki thrust into her with increasing intensity. The muscles of his arms flexed as he kept himself anchored above her. She grabbed onto his arms. Here he was, so solid, when she felt like she was floating away.

The breeze cooled the sweat on Loki's forehead and carried Trista's screams out of the room. Loki watched his woman fall apart, suddenly aware of a hollow space within himself. It was like looking down a dark well; he had no idea how far down it went.

Trista opened her eyes. Loki was biting his lower lip so hard, she was worried he'd draw blood. She gently ran her thumbs along his jawline.

He tried to hold himself in, but her eyes…

He slipped and fell into the well. When he hit the bottom, he was damp, and there was Trista, lying underneath him. It was cold and dark at the bottom of the well. Deep in his gut, Loki felt a pang of terror.

"It's okay," Trista whispered. She kissed his flushed cheek.

His sweat clung to her breasts, creating a seal; his body was reluctant to let him peel himself away from her. But his mind knew better than his body. His mind knew that he hated that feeling in his gut. He needed to be in control, and there was only one way to maintain that control. He brushed his hair back with his hand. He sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Trista was still paralyzed.

The bed was huge; he was sitting several feet away from her on it, but he still felt too close. "Were you listening, servant girl?"

Trista opened her eyes. She lifted herself slightly, propping herself up on her elbows. "Every word."

His eyes darkened.

Trista sighed. When would he trust her? She got up and closed the bedchamber door on her way to the bathroom.

"Where are you meeting Sloane?"

"The tavern. Why?" Trista twisted her neck to look at him.

The sparkle was back in Loki's eyes. "Have fun tonight."

"Thanks." Trista felt a smile warm her face. As she stepped inside the bathroom, she realized she no longer felt the loneliness that had burrowed its way inside her earlier. She removed the towel from the bathtub, dumping it on the floor, and turned on the faucet. As the water flowed, she recalled the way Loki had looked at her as he came. Steam rose from the tub. She slipped inside, allowing the water line to rise up her body. She turned off the water and leaned back, looking around the bathroom. Her finger circled the scar Loki had left on her inner thigh. He was everywhere. She wondered, did he see her everywhere too?

Back in the bedroom, Loki was still sitting on his bed. He watched the curtains billow gently and tried to find a pattern in the way the wind blew.

He stood up and, one by one, slammed each of the windows shut. The only way to predict the wind was to cease it altogether.

He walked to the table, suddenly craving an orange. He walked past the book he had discarded earlier. It lay there on the floor, pathetic, used, its pages bent from the fall.

He selected the largest orange on the table and tore off its skin with his teeth.

He was going to need all his strength tonight.

* * *

"Trista! Hey." Sloane's face broke out in a wide smile when she saw her friend approach. The sun had just gone down. She was sitting on a stool at the bar. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait to see you."

"I guess that makes two of us." Sloane took a sip of red wine from her goblet. "That's a sexy dress." She glanced at Trista's breasts, testing her. When she'd met Trista earlier that day she thought she seemed like the kind of girl who didn't care much about appearances, in her rumpled shirtdress and messy hair. But tonight, Trista had worn a fitted black dress with a plunging neckline. Was Trista testing her also?

"Loki picked it out for me."

Sloane nodded. "He has good taste." She noticed her friend beam in response. "Want a drink? My treat."

"I'd love a drink. Perhaps in a more private place?"

Sloane's goblet froze halfway to her lips. "Yeah, of course. Did you have a spot in mind?"

"Just follow me. I'll lead the way."

Sloane placed her goblet back on the bar without taking a sip. She leaned in closer. "Trista, I have to ask. Are you…" She faced her palm upward and gestured back and forth with her pointer finger. "Into women?"

"Let's just say I'm bisexual. Now, about that drink…"

* * *

Trista wasn't sure about it before, but now she knew for sure she was lost. She thought she knew the way to the tavern, but Loki had given her contrary directions and, like the submissive she tended to be, she followed his directions rather than her own. The castle was like a city unto itself, but she figured it couldn't be too difficult for her to find the tavern. All she had to do was keep a look out for people stumbling around and slurring their words.

It had to be well past eight o'clock by now. Trista walked faster, hoping Sloane wouldn't be mad at her for being late.

"Excuse me." Trista approached a group of women. "I'm kind of lost. Would you be able to point me in the direction of the tavern?"

One of the women chuckled. "You really are lost. It's on the opposite side of the castle." She pointed down the correct corridor.

Trista's mouth fell open. She ran down the hallway. "Thank you," she called back to the woman.

Loki's little prank had momentarily derailed her, but he wouldn't spoil her night. She prayed that Sloane had found a nice glass of wine and was waiting for her.

* * *

Sloane followed her friend out of the tavern and down to a familiar corridor. She recognized the bedchamber door and balked. "Absolutely not. You've got to be joking." She dropped her friend's hand. "He could come back at any moment."

"Oh, don't worry about Loki. Besides, haven't you always wanted to do it on a prince's bed?"

Sloane turned her face away. "I'd rather not re-live the experience." Her friend stayed quiet. Sloane peered at her. "I didn't tell you the whole story about Thor."

"You don't have to."

* * *

She finally found her way. Like a moth, Trista was drawn to the warm yellow light spilling out of the door of the tavern. She'd been here once before, several years ago, with friends from the kitchen. Back then, she had a herd to follow and tell her what to order and how to order it. Tonight, she walked through the door on her own, selected a seat on her own. It wasn't as scary as she thought it'd be, all those years ago.

She sat at the bar and craned her neck, scanning the crowds of people.

The bartender came forth. "What'll you have?"

Trista hesitated. She tried to remember what her friends had ordered last time but went blank; the image of Sloane's purple eyes swam in her mind.

After several moments, another patron caught the bartender's attention and he abandoned her.

Trista slouched. Independence was an acquired taste, all right. Maybe you had to be abandoned a certain number of times to really develop a taste for it.

* * *

Sloane allowed herself to be coaxed inside Prince Loki's bedchambers. Damn, this girl better be worth it. She looked around the room. The table had been cleared, the bed had been made. She felt her friend grab hold of her hand.

"I lied to you. I don't have any wine."

Sloane stayed still, feeling a twinge of nervousness. It must have been Trista's dress. Her friend closed the gap between them and looked up at her. Slightly taken aback by Trista's assertiveness, Sloane diverted her gaze out the window for a moment. She searched the sky for the moon and then remembered: it was a new moon tonight. There was nothing to see but stars. When she returned her gaze, she saw that Trista hadn't stopped staring at her. Sloane returned her stare. "I might be rusty."

"Then let's oil the hinges."

* * *

The tavern became more and more crowded as the hour passed. Trista was nursing a vodka, wishing certain people were as transparent as her drink. Someone bumped into her shoulder, almost knocking her off her stool. She was starting to wonder if she was the transparent one. She'd never felt more invisible. She knocked back the rest of her drink, wincing as it burned her throat. It had a salty aftertaste; she had tears hiding behind her eyes. Quickly, Trista got up. She put her hand on the shoulder of the person who had bumped into her. "You can have my seat."

She didn't wait to see if the person sat down. She wove her way through the crowd, headed for the exit. She swallowed her tears, wondering if she'd get another chance with Sloane.

* * *

Sloane broke away, her lips flushed. "Half of me wondered if you were going to blow me off tonight." She felt a cool hand slip up her dress.

"What did the other half think?"

Sloane lay back on the black silk sheets. She laughed. "You mean my bottom half? Honestly, the other half of me was thinking about… exactly this." She closed her eyes and felt the hem of her dress being pulled up around her waist. Trista sure knew what she was doing. "You've done this before, right?"

"What do you think?"

Sloane opened her eyes and looked at Trista, who was sporting a sweet smile. Sloane smirked and narrowed her eyes. "You're not as innocent as you look." She watched Trista lower her head between her legs. She felt her undergarments slide down. She closed her eyes, hearing the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor.

"You have no idea, Sloane."

Sloane moaned as she felt her name vibrate against her center.

* * *

Trista's hand was just about to grasp the doorknob to Loki's bedchamber, when she heard someone moaning inside.

"Trista…"

Trista eyes widened. She froze for just a moment, recognizing Sloane's voice. She gave her head a quick shake and twisted the doorknob. Why would Sloane be in Loki's room?

She pushed open the door and immediately saw herself on Loki's bed. She stared at the replica, whose face was buried between a pair of legs. Her jaw dropped.

"Trista, you're going to make me…"

Trista realized who the legs belonged to. It was Sloane, supine on the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

The replica of Trista melted away, revealing…

Trista brought a hand to her mouth.

Sloane began to scream, writhing on the bed with her eyes still closed as Loki went down on her.

Trista marched over to the bed. "What the fuck?"

Loki lifted his head. His mouth was wet.

Trista slapped his face. She winced, her palm stinging from the impact. Loki looked unfazed. His cheek wasn't even red. Trista began to shake.

Sloane's eyes were open now, taking in what was happening. She sat up and scooted away from Loki like she'd been burned.

"Thor never did bring you to orgasm, did he?" Loki smirked at her. "You're welcome."

Sloane tugged her dress down and stumbled off of the bed. She turned her cheek to Loki, as if he didn't exist. Right now, he couldn't exist. Her brain couldn't process it. Instead, she glared at Trista. "Congratulations, you really fooled me. Fucking hilarious."

Trista shook her head. She wanted to grab Sloane's arm but, at the same time, she didn't want to touch the woman who had Loki's saliva between her legs. "I waited at the tavern. I had no idea."

"Right. The God of Mischief and his bitch." Sloane sniffled back hot tears. "Why don't you get a life?" She stumbled towards the door, blinded by tears and woozy from the orgasm.

Trista ran after her. "Let's talk. I clearly have no idea what's going on either."

"What is wrong with you? Leave me alone." Sloane screamed. She yanked the door open and ran out, slamming it in Trista's face.

Trista stood there, too stunned to cry.

Loki raised his eyebrows. "That was rude."

An electric shock rippled up Trista spine. Her face went blank. She ran her tongue over her lip for a moment before turning around to face him. "You're impenetrable."

"Impenetrable? I'm an open book." He grabbed the same book he'd been reading before; the pages were bent from being thrown on the floor. He let it fall open to a random page. "You listened to every word I spoke, and I spoke nothing but the truth."

Trista shook her head. She rubbed her eyes with her palms. "I don't know what to say."

"Say, 'yes, Master,' and sit beside me, like an obedient servant girl." He patted the spot next to him. "You're here for my satisfaction. So far you've done nothing but disobey my orders. I tell you I don't like sharing, and you run off to play with someone you just met."

"You took my form. You deceived an innocent person."

"I gave her what she wanted, while all you did was give her false hope. Not much of a friend, are you? And if you had anything other than virtuous intentions for the girl, well, then…" He shrugged. "There you go disobeying me again."

Trista crossed her arms, squeezing herself in attempt to stop shaking. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"Don't blame me. If you weren't such an enticing creature I would have never been able to lure that girl in here. You should be proud of yourself; even the _mighty Thor_ couldn't make her come."

Trista looked up, catching the resentment in his voice. "You really are an asshole."

"Darling, I'm thousands of years old. You don't live that long without collecting a few chips on your shoulder. Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not. I'm angry at myself."

Loki stood up and sauntered over to her. "I am many things to many people, but I am not your lover. I am not your friend. You don't have my heart."

Trista held up her hand, signalling him to stop. "You've already convinced me. So why are you still arguing? Who are you really trying to convince?" She turned her back to him before he could see her cry. She bowed her head. Her shoulders shrugged inwards as silent sob fought its way out.

Loki was standing directly behind her now. Just as he felt like he was climbing out of the well, he'd looked back and seen Trista's broken body, laying at the bottom. He reached his hand forward, wanting to touch her shoulder.

Trista stepped forwards before he could touch her. She clasped the doorknob and pulled it open. "Don't follow me." She slammed the door behind her.

Loki never took orders from servants, and he wasn't going to start now.

But he figured he'd give her a head start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update Dec 29 2014: I don't think I'm going to revisit this fic, so for now I have marked it as complete. Thank you for reading ^_^


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